


Missing you

by Youremyalways



Series: Promises verse [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 8 months pregnant, Angst, Helpful!Cas, Hurt!Sam Winchester, M!preg, M/M, Pregnant Sam Winchester, Worried!Dean, babydaddy!dean, bored!sam, braxton hicks, comfort!cas, false labor pains, gun glorification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24899422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youremyalways/pseuds/Youremyalways
Summary: Dean gets a call and has to leave to help Garth with a hunt. Sam is eight months pregnant and not too happy about Dean leaving when he promised he was done hunting. He deals with being alone and experiences false labor pains from the stress.Angst with comfort.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Promises verse [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784953
Comments: 2
Kudos: 287





	Missing you

**Author's Note:**

> I do have one note at the beginning of this;
> 
> There is some glorification of guns in this fic. It makes sense for the story and for Supernatural in general, but just putting it out there that I do not condone using guns for stress relief and/or romanticizing their capabilities.
> 
> With that said, enjoy this story!
> 
> Keep any comments nice please <3
> 
> Xoxo

Sam had to sit down when he brushed his teeth now. 

And when he read. Or was on the phone. Or brushing his hair. 

He had to sit down pretty much all the time. His body was fatigued and heavy, and the baby in his abdomen was draining him of all of his energy. He was fucking huge, now, too. At seven months, his stomach stuck out well past his chest and he couldn’t see his feet. Most of his shirts didn’t fit him anymore, so there were only a handful of tees and sweatshirts he wore in a cycle. He was sweaty and hot even though it was barely spring, and his nipples and chest were raw and agonizing. His feet were sore as shit from carrying around all the extra weight and only over the past few days did his back start hurting like a motherfucker. He had to pee literally all the time, and his eyes got watery at random times throughout the day for no good reason. He literally teared up at a Target commercial yesterday. He and Dean couldn’t eat in the same room because the sound of chewing drove him to insanity, and muscle mass was leaving his body more and more by the day.

It all  _ sucked. _

He was proud of himself, however, because he had been able to restrain the desire to complain his ass off so far. At least out loud. When Dean asked him if he was hurting, he didn’t necessarily lie, he just… embellished the truth a bit. 

Instead of “Everything hurts” or “I’m tired all the time,” he’d say “It’ll all be worth it” or “I’ve had worse.” 

See? It was all technically true. It wasn’t lying, necessarily. It was just… understating. And it wasn’t hurting anybody. It was benefiting Dean, actually. He slept better when he knew Sam was okay. So… no harm done. 

Except that it was slowly eating away at Sam. All the fake smiles and reassurances… all he fucking wanted was to rant. Rant about everything. Get his frustration out in the only way he could with no longer being able to hunt. But that wasn’t an option. Not when Dean has been so fucking caring and perfect this entire time. Sam couldn’t dump all of his pain and frustration at Dean’s feet. His brother would just try to fix it all and that was not what he wanted. He just wanted to complain. That was all. 

God, was Sam seriously complaining about how thoughtful his brother was? How fucked up was that?

He sighed and got up from where he was sitting on the bed, resting a hand on the small of his own back as he walked to calm the fire burning at the base of his spine. He walked out of their bedroom, his gate a bit wider than normal because of the extra weight in front of him. 

Tea. That was a good idea. The warmth of the liquid always soothed his nerves and the peppermint was great for buffering the aches and pains. 

He knew if he asked, Dean would make it for him, but Sam liked the sense of independence he could get from the little things. Making tea, tidying up the bunker, pleasuring Dean in bed. 

Plus, it was barely past nine am in the morning. Sam wouldn’t be surprised if Dean was passed out in a chair somewhere.

That was until… 

_ “I can’t. I’m sorry, really. But, this time I gotta stay out.” _

Sam furrowed his brows. Dean’s voice was coming from the kitchen, soft and steady. He was on the phone. And having a bit of an argument if the frustrated and firm tone to his voice was any indication.

When he reached the kitchen door, Sam paused and leaned against the wall to eavesdrop. 

_ “Garth, I’m out. I don’t know what to tell you, you’ll have to find someone else.”  _

Sam felt his spine tickle. Garth? That meant a hunt. Not good. Him and Dean decided they would  _ not _ be hunting. 

Dean’s voice was strained when he responded to something on the other end,  _ “I understand you’re in a bad spot, but…”  _

Sam knit his brows. Why’d he stop?! Sam was eight freaking months pregnant. He couldn’t do this on his own. Dean couldn’t leave. They were  _ out _ . 

There was another long pause before Dean’s voice broke the silence again.

_ “Why not Jody, or one of the roadhouse guys?” _

Sam tilted his head in appreciation. That was good.  _ This _ was good. Dean was not going for it.

_ “Garth-” _

Sam felt his heart beat hasten. He was relieved, yet anxious as all could be. It seemed like Dean was denying Garth, but something about the urgency and determination in the way he spoke didn’t sit right with Sam. But he had said no, multiple times. Sam breathed deeply. It was all okay. Dean knew what he was doing. And then-

_ “I’m on my way.” _

Sam’s eyes blew up wider than they ever have before. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach like a stone. What the hell?! He couldn’t stop himself from barging in, arms crossed over his very swollen middle. 

“Why are you on your way to Garth?” He accused immediately upon entering, not being able to hold the annoyance and betrayal back from his voice or expression.

Dean turned to him with surprise all over his face, parted lips and wide eyes. He put his phone down flat on the table and swallowed nervously. He looked like a toddler caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

After a moment, he cleared his throat and started softly, holding a hand out in something like defense, “Look, it’s the last thing on earth I want to do right now, but he’s in a tough spot and I’m the only one that knows he’s a werewolf so…”

Sam brought a calloused hand up to his face and rubbed three fingers over his eyes, breathing deeply and feeling the frustration boil in the base of his spine. 

“You said you wouldn’t leave again.” He muttered so it was just audible enough for Dean to hear. He looked up and continued with a louder, firmer voice, “You said you were  _ done _ hunting!” 

Dean looked down and pushed his tongue to the inside of his right cheek, clearly contemplating.

“What am I supposed to do?” He asked carefully when he returned his gaze to Sam, “He’s in trouble. You were fine with me leaving when it was Jody that was in danger. We don’t pick and choose.” 

Sam raised his brows, appalled.

“I was  _ never _ fine with you leaving. I accepted that you had to, but don’t you ever think I was  _ fine _ with it.” He bit out before laughing humorlessly and adding, “And that was four months ago. Back when I could still…” He stopped himself, not willing to go on a rant about all of the things he couldn’t do anymore right now.

He breathed out and refocused, “I’m eight months now, Dean. It’s too close. What if I go into labor and you’re not here?” 

Dean winced a little like Sam had taken a physical punch, but he quickly recollected himself and combated, “You’re eight months. Your due date isn’t until late next month, Sam. The chances of you going into labor are incredibly small. And believe me, I don’t want to leave you. It goes against everything in me, but… it’s Garth. He’s had our back a million times, and the fact is… it’ll only be a few days. Once the baby comes, I’ll be completely out. May as well get it out, now, right?” 

Sam shook his head before speaking systematically, slowly, “The last time you went hunting you said it would only be a few days. And then it was longer. The last time you went hunting, you said it would be the last time. Yet here you are again. You say you’ll be completely out once the baby comes, but you were already supposed to be completely out. Stop fudging the rules for yourself, Dean. Take some damn responsibility!”

Dean looked dead in Sam’s eyes and swallowed deeply. There was a long pause before he spoke.

“I can’t just leave a friend in need on their own, Sam.” Was his stubborn, whispered response.

“And what about what I need?” Sam asked back, voice raising in volume, “Everytime you go out there to hunt, I don’t know if you're coming back. And before that was fine. No, that was great. It was  _ who we were _ . It was what we did. But it’s more than just the two of us now. I couldn’t lose you before, but Dean, I cannot even  _ fathom _ losing you now. We agreed that you were done hunting so we could eliminate the risk. And yet here we are _ again _ , with you volunteering to be in the line of fire. Do you not get what that does to me, or do you just not care?” 

Anger crept onto Dean’s face then, and he took a subtle step forward, “Of course I care! But honestly, you’re being a little selfish, right now! Garth could be in serious danger, and all you care about is me hunting. Bigger picture, man!”

And okay, yeah, that one stung. Sam opened his mouth to retort, but found himself closing his lips again within seconds. He didn’t know what to say. Dean was insinuating that Sam not only did not care about Garth, but that he only cared about himself. He didn’t like that very much. Wanting Dean to be safe for the sake of his child was different than not wanting to help his friend. But Dean didn’t seem to get that. He didn’t seem to understand the fear and panic. The worry. And honestly? If he couldn’t understand that… then maybe he  _ should _ go. 

“Just go.” Sam told him as much, waving a hand in gesture. He barely even shrugged, refusing to display how badly he was hurt. 

“What?” Dean asked, voice laced in surprise.

Sam shrugged again and told him more firmly, “Go. Hunt. Whatever.” 

And with that, he walked out of the kitchen, with no tea, and into his own bedroom. He closed the door and locked it behind him before sitting down on the end of the bed and letting the tears fall.

It was half an hour later when there was a knock on his door. Sam just turned his back to the entrance and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to talk to his brother right now. 

Clearly taking the hint, the knocking stopped and then Dean’s voice seeped through the wood, hesitant and remorseful.

“Look, I… I’m sorry.” He stated, and there was a thud that sounded like he had put his forehead to the door, “I have to go. I’ll be back in a few days. And then we’ll fix this, I swear. I love you.” 

And it was on the tip of Sam’s tongue to return the sentiment, but… he just couldn’t. 

Part of him felt like a horrible person for not wanting Dean to help Garth. He was their friend. But… Dean  _ swore _ he was done hunting. He  _ promised _ . And Sam was just so sick of worrying that he would be a single father before their kid was even born. 

So he remained silent as Dean lingered behind the door. And when the sound of footsteps led away from his room, he finally let out a shaking breath and allowed himself to fall back against the bed. He waited a solid hour before leaving the confinements of his bedroom, ensuring that Dean would be gone when he did. 

He didn’t want the awkwardness, the forced apologies, the walking on eggshells.

He winced and grunted like an old man as he walked to the kitchen, his body in so much pain all over the place. Sam was a muscular guy. He was fit and he was physically domineering to most, but… nothing could’ve prepared his body for this. For a beach ball filled with lead in his stomach that he had to carry around consistently. His back was crying out and his feet were screaming from the strain. 

Sam made his way into the kitchen, and this time the light was turned off and Dean was nowhere to be found. He sighed, feeling mostly relieved, but there was a hint of disappointment there, too. A little part of him hoped Dean changed his mind. But of course he didn’t. 

Sam walked up to the main cabinets and pulled out the kettle, filling it with water before placing it on the stove over medium heat. He grabbed one of his peppermint tea bags out of the box and set it down on the counter next to the stove top. Then, he walked over to the bar and sat down in one of the chairs with a hiss. He reached for his laptop and started reading through hunter’s blogs about recent hunts. He got hooked on a particularly interesting entry about copy-cat vampire killings in Kentucky, and by the time he made it halfway through the article, the tea was ready and he was pouring himself a cup. He added two ice cubes to cool it down and then sat back down and got back to reading. He basically did that all day.

By the time he went to bed, he had two missed calls and three text messages from his brother 

_ 1 missed call: Dean Winchester _

_ From Dean: I just rolled into town. Meeting up with Garth soon. Just thought I’d keep you updated. _

_ From Dean: I promise I’ll be safe. Let me know if you need anything on my way back. Love you. _

_ 1 missed call: Dean Winchester _

_ From Dean: I’m sorry :( _

But Sam was too damn tired to bullshit a response right then, so he just turned his phone off and went to bed. In his own room, like he always did when Dean was away.

The next two days were pretty much the same. Sam woke up, made tea, watched tv or researched, ate dinner, then went to bed. Dean kept texting and calling.

_ From Dean: It’s definitely a Banshee. Garth’s wife and kids are hostages. Not good. But we’ve stopped one before. It’ll be fine. Text me if you need anything.  _

_ 1 missed call: Dean Winchester  _

_ From Dean: Hey, you gotta answer me at some point, man. I’m losing my mind. How many times do I have to say sorry? _

_ 2 missed calls: Dean Winchester  _

_ From Dean: Sorry, that was harsh. Just check in okay?  _

_ From Dean: One banshee is dead. Garth killed it. Family is safe. There’s one more and then I should be making my way back to you. _

Sam had answered once for his own sanity and for Dean’s security, but it was a short reply and he never picked up the calls. He was just so frustrated and worried.

_ To Dean: I’m fine. Be safe. _

He had to work out some of these nerves. He had to shake himself off. But when you’re eight months pregnant, there’s not much you can do physically to relieve stress. He certainly wasn’t the type to sign up for lamaze.

Staring at his computer and phone all day was giving him headaches and he couldn’t stare at the screens any longer. He’d read enough about monsters and heard enough of Dean’s apologies.

When the idea came to him, he laughed out loud a bit.

It was the best idea he had, but was also the absolute worst. Dean would kill him if he found out. Hell, if he wasn’t so desperate, he’d hate himself for even considering it.

But… nothing calmed him down like the adrenaline and focus of shooting a gun. In his line of work, it was practically therapy. 

God, anyone normal would think he was a psychopath.

He made the decision in minutes. He shut his laptop off and made his way -his  _ very slow _ way- to the training room downstairs. He breathed in the scent of bullets and dust and felt at home. The paper cutouts of black silhouettes with targets on their chests and heads had holes, but were still very much usable. Sam smiled softly, flicked the light on, and picked up his gun. He ran his index finger over the barrel and held it up, never turning it towards himself, and especially not his stomach. For a moment, he just stood there and breathed in and out. He hadn’t held his gun in months. It felt good. Familiar. Safe.

Standing up was putting a painful pressure on his knees and back, but the feeling of having some control made it worth it. He couldn’t hold back the smile as he positioned his gun up in the air, right at the target. Right before he pulled the trigger, he felt the baby kick around in his belly. He swayed a little.

“Woah, okay, hey there.” He laughed, removing one hand from the gun to rest a palm over his stomach, “Don’t worry, I’m being safe. You’re okay.” 

Sam repositioned and again, his finger was on the trigger when another movement rifled through his abdomen. This time it didn’t feel like a kick though. This time it  _ hurt _ . Sam dropped the gun to the countertop and stepped back, both hands on his belly.

“Woah!” He exclaimed once it passed, laughing nervously, “What was that, little one?”

He paused and looked around like it would help, but before he could make a judgment of any kind, there was another sharp pain in the front of his belly. It wasn’t necessarily bad. It was incredibly mild for what Sam was used to, but it still hurt. He hissed through it.

When that one passed, he took a deep breath and reached for his phone. He was about to look it up online, but there was another one rolling through before he could. This time it was stronger and longer, but more uncomfortable than painful. 

This wasn’t… no way was this the start of labor. They were too close together… he was barely eight months… this wasn’t right.

So instead of researching, he immediately hit number two on speed dial and put the phone up to his ear. His breath hitched when the pressure in his gut came back. He sat down on the floor, not able to stand any longer.

After four ringtones, Cas picked up the phone.

_ “Sam, are you okay?”  _ He asked immediately, and Sam felt relieved that he had picked up so quickly. 

“Something’s wrong.” He responded, “Dean’s a couple states away. Can you get here?” 

_ “Ten minutes. Hold on, it’ll be okay.” _

Sam nodded and bit his lip.

“Okay. Okay.” He breathed out, squinting his eyes shut, “Thank you, Cas.”

He rode out the ten minutes by walking out of the training room and up to the library. It took him way too long to make the trip, but the walking actually helped the pain a bit. His abdomen was still churning in waves that made him nervous as all hell. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t being serious when he told Dean that he could go into labor while he was away, but now he was genuinely considering it. Or what if… what if there was something seriously wrong. What if… no. No. He couldn’t think like that.

He had just settled into a chair at the main table when Cas walked in through the door. He raced down the stairs and approached Sam with worry-filled eyes.

“Sam?” He asked as he knelt down in front of him, placing a hand on his forearm, “What’s wrong?” 

Sam ran a hand over his forehead, “There’s pain in my stomach… the baby. It’s not that bad, but it’s frequent and I don’t know what’s happening.” 

Cas nodded before looking up at Sam and rolling his sleeves up.

“May I?” He asked, hands hovering over Sam’s stomach.

Sam nodded immediately. No question.

Cas placed both hands on opposite sides of Sam’s stomach, closing his eyes and breathing in. Sam sat there, patiently waiting while his heart hammered away. He heard his phone ringing somewhere in the distance, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“You’re right, there is something going on.” Cas agreed, tilting his head, “But I don’t believe it’s anything to worry about. Braxton Hicks are very common.”

Sam leaned back and nodded in understanding, “Braxton Hicks. False labor pains.”

“Yes.” Cas assured, “Were you doing something stressful? Sometimes that can cause false labor pains.”

Sam probably looked pretty guilty because Cas sighed and raised a brow, “You can’t be straining your body right now, Sam. You know that.” 

Sam crossed his arms and mumbled, “I know. I just don’t like feeling so useless.” 

“You’re growing a baby, Sam.” Cas retorted, “You are far from useless.” 

Sam looked away.

“Where is Dean, anyway? Does he know about this?” 

Sam didn’t really want to answer, so he just slowly shook his head back and forth.

Cas sighed, “Why not?” 

“He’s hunting with Garth. He doesn’t need to worry about me.” Sam looked down and added in an almost inaudible whisper, “He  _ didn’t  _ worry about me.” 

Cas looked at him like that was the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. 

“Dean always worries about you.” He stated, “Excessively, actually. If he left, it’s because he needed to.” 

Sam huffed and looked down, “I know. Doesn’t make it…” He hissed and cut himself off when another pain rifled through him. Once it passed he finished, “It doesn’t make it any easier.”

Cas nodded, “I understand.” 

They sat there in silence for a few long moments before Cas broke it.

“Well, I could make you some tea, or…”

“No, you know what, I’d actually really rather be alone.” Sam said softly, careful to not offend the angel, “I appreciate you coming so quickly, Cas, really. I just… I just need rest.”

“Well, I’ll leave you be then.” Cas said as he stood up, “Don’t hesitate to call if you need me again. And you should call your brother. I think you might be so worried about worrying Dean that you’re worrying him more. Just be smart. And stop straining your body.”

Sam nodded and agreed, “You’re probably right.”

And within minutes, Cas was gone and Sam was fiddling with his phone, debating. The screen was lit up with two notifications.

_ 1 missed call: Dean Winchester  _

_ From Dean: Hunt’s wrapped up. I should be home tomorrow morning. I’m sorry for everything, again. But it’s okay. Everyone got out okay. _

It took a long time before Sam built up the courage to hit redial. Dean answered on the second ring.

_ “Sammy?!”  _

The surprise was patent in his voice.

“Hi.” Sam said simply, quietly, before adding, “I got your texts. I’m glad you’re okay.” 

_ “God, Sam, I’m so sorry for leaving the way I did. That was so not cool and I should’ve given you time to explain. I’m just… I’m just really sorry.”  _

Sam looked down.

“I know.”

_ “Are you okay? I haven’t…. I haven’t heard from you.” _

Sam sighed, “I’m fine. Cas just took off, so I’m just gonna rest for a bit, probably.”

_ “Cas?”  _ Dean’s voice was confused,  _ “Why was Cas there?” _

Sam bit his lip. Dammit. He didn’t mean for that to slip out.

“Uh… well, it’s all okay now. I’m okay. But, I had some pain in my abdomen. It was just false labor pains, though. Cas checked. We’re both good.” 

_ “What?!”  _ Dean yelled and Sam flinched,  _ “False labor pains sound like a big deal, Sam!” _

“They’re not.” Sam shrugged, “It’s pretty common.”

_ “Well, I want him to tell me that.” _

Sam rolled his eyes, “Fine, whatever.”

A long pause followed.

_ “Are you okay, now?” _

Dean sounded worried. Excessively so, as Cas might say.

“I’m fine.” He answered honestly.

_ “Fucking hell, Sam!”  _ Dean swore and it took the younger by surprise,  _ “I should have been there.”  _

Sam swallowed down the ‘I told you so’ burning on his tongue and instead went for comfort.

“You couldn’t have done anything. It’s fine, it’s all normal. Just drive safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

_ “Fine, but we aren’t done talking about this. I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, and Sam?” _

“You’re sorry, I know.” Sam filled in.

_ “I was gonna say I love you, but yeah, that too.”  _ Dean answered and Sam could practically see the smirk.

“I love you too.” 

He hung up with a smile on his face. They still had a lot to work through. More than most. But if they could do it together, that’s all that mattered.


End file.
